


Don't Look Down

by surreallis



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreallis/pseuds/surreallis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-ep for Silencer. He's never been good at words when his emotions are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look Down

She isn't even sure how it happens. They're just driving and it's late and he's been silent and moody; silent all week really as he watches Peter watching her. And he knows, of course, because he notices people. He notices what _they_ notice, and it's not like she was trying to hide it, exactly. Except she kind of was.

She pulls into the far end of his parking lot and stops the SUV and just glares at him and demands, "What? What, Bobby?" Because goddamn it, it's not like she doesn't exist in this bubble with him, like their whole world isn't built on their own language, just like the case. Just like.

And it isn't like she wants to leave him, it's just that he gets so damn _distant_, and she gets tired of running after him. Sometimes she just wants to wait until he circles back around.

He doesn't say anything, but he looks hurt and then he looks mad and then he's leaning toward her and kissing her and his long fingers are in her hair, curling around her neck. She can't be startled too long because his mouth is almost hot and his tongue is silk, and all she can read from him is his answer: _This. It's this._

He's never been particularly good at words when his emotions are involved.

And she's climbing over the center console then, into the passenger seat with him, and his hands are pulling at her, sliding up under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine as the cool air hits her skin. His breath is warm against her cheek and he chases her mouth with his until she sits back on his lap, lays a hand over one graying temple and says, "Bobby. Easy."

He looks at her, brown eyes all shadow, and then he exhales and stills. Just like that. And she unbuckles her belt, works on her jeans, alone, before he helps her strip them away. Then she works on his belt and he lets a long, slow breath out and closes his eyes. When she wraps her fingers around his bare cock, he swallows and tilts his head back and looks at her from under lowered lashes, and she feels light-headed.

He drags one hand up over her thigh and then between her legs and she can't take his touch and his gaze at the same time so she presses her mouth to his again, and then, when she can barely breathe and she just wants to move her hips against his hand until she comes and comes, she presses her mouth to his shoulder and rises up. Slides back down and lets him slip inside her.

His hands press her down and his arms circle around her, and he's always been big enough to loom over her, but he feels good. Encompassing without being confining.

She moves and he breathes and the bottom drops out of the world as the pleasure pools between her legs and then thrums upward. His breath gets harder and his fingers curl into her hips, and she feels too tight, too driven, _too good_ to slow or stop.

"Alex," he gasps, and it's a plea, so she grabs his hand and shoves it between them, and he fumbles for a moment before his thumb finds her clit, and then it doesn't take long. She sucks in her breath and moans into his coat and comes with a shudder. He grabs her hip with wet fingers and keeps her moving until he exhales hard, once, twice and then he's pulling her down, holding her there as he comes, his groan tinged with gravel.

She closes her eyes to think as she rests in his lap. His chest heaves beneath her and then starts to slow. He's still inside her and his pants will be a disaster when she finally moves. His hands slide heavily up her back, and she sighs against the fabric of his coat.

"I'm sorry," he says, in that soft, aching tone he has. She hears his mouth work, feels him fidget a bit. "I tried not to fall."

She slides her fingers onto the back of his damp neck and pulls her head back to look at him in the darkness. "I know," she says. "It's okay."

She's silent then, and so is he, and his arms tighten around her. In the warmth of the cocoon they've made she listens as the rain starts tapping on the roof. And she doesn't want to leave.

~end~


End file.
